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Here is an importance reflection from The Biography of Marcel Lefebvre by Bernard Tessier de Mallerais. The paragraph is separated into sentences to help the reader to focus on the message.

He [Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre] wanted to “follow” Providence.

However, confidence is not nonchalance.

His friend Fr. Calmel was well aware of this: “Leaving things up to the grace of God is not to do nothing! It is to do everything in our power, while continuing in love.”

Holy abandonment is found “not in resignation and laziness but at the heart of action and initiative.”

It would be dishonest to pray to God for victory without actually fighting for it.

Here we find magnanimity: responding generously to divine grace.

Magnanimity asks us to give something beyond prayer that one must pay for with one’s own person: “The things I pray for,” St. Thomas More prayed magnanimously, “dear Lord, give me the grace to work for.” (p 568)

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We visited homes of Traditional families and noted some of the activities they were engaged in. Every activity – growing things, sewing, praying, cooking, playing – if done for the love of God is working to establish the Kingship of Jesus Christ here on Earth.

We invite young people (and young at heart) to see if they can identify the photos below. If you need help identifying anything, email at info@ecclesiamilitans.com
We would also appreciate a note from anyone who can help use to place these pictures two or three across rather than one per line.

Can you guess which of the plants below was referred to many times by Jesus when teaching?

With prayers from all the young people in the Project.
Sr C

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Beth was sad at school, sitting on the bench at break, mourning the loss of her friend, Isabella, and looking longingly at classmates chatting with their friends and walking with each other. It was a warm, sunny day, with a few clouds whisping by. Then a smiling girl walked towards her, saying apparently to the air, “Hello everybody, my name is Josephine, Jo, for short.” Then she paused six feet away from Beth, not looking towards her. “I am a very nice person”, she continued, “and I am going to stand here until someone talks to me, because, I have been in this school for three whole days, and not one has talked to me! Hello, hello, somebody, I am really fun to be around. Never fear, Jo is here!”

Beth felt her longing was heard, though she had a pang: was this girl a little dingy? Yet Beth was intrigued. How brave, she thought. And the school could be snobbish. She got up and moved cautiously towards the girl. “Hello”, Beth said softly. Jo continued to gaze round. Beth moved closer and said a little louder, “Hello”. Jo gazed up and down at her and then said, in slightly disapproving tone, “Finally, someone in this school talks to me!” Beth hesitated, a pang of doubt halting her. Then Jo flashed a brilliant smile towards Beth. Beth ventured, “My name is Beth”. Jo said, “So, what class do you have next?” “English”. “So do I!” So, Beth and Jo walked to the class they found they had together.

Jo and Beth became great companions. They did much together, riding their bicycles to the beach, swimming in the ocean and wading in the creek, fishing from the pier, taking a rubber raft on the creek, and visiting each other in each other’s homes. They had so much fun. They even had adventures that were exciting, if not quite proper. And she was Catholic! Imagine Beth’s excitement when her parents allowed her to attend Mass with her friend! What a disappointment, though! Everything was like another friend’s American Lutheran church! They sang hymns throughout, the “presider” faced the congregation to pray, people whispered loudly in church, no one hardly kneeled, and there was a piano banging out popular tunes! The “homily” was half jokes and the “altar servers” squirmed and looked bored. The “presider” seemed clownish with his plate sized host! “Be a humanist and love all religions” rasped the “presider”. Well, Beth’s parents seemed disappointed when Beth informed them that she would[EH1] not go back there. “Well, why would I”, thought Beth. “My Danish Lutheran church has more reverence than this new thing! I wish we went more!” Maybe Gruntvig was right! “First be human, then Christian!” The new Catholic group seemed slightly wild animal, to Beth!

One time, Jo & Beth went into a tunnel where the creek went for a long while, carrying flashlights, though they knew that their parents disapproved of anything dangerous. Another time they walked towards a train tunnel. Jo wanted to go through it, but Beth had been so cautioned by her model railroading oldest brother to never do that, so she refused. Jo frightened her by heading straight for the tunnel, saying harsh words of “prissy!” and “coward!” Beth quickly put her ear to the steel rail and heard a rumble and felt the vibration. “No, Jo, a train is coming! Put your ear to the track if you do not believe me!” Jo looked back disdainfully, then, seeing real fear on Beth’s face, reconsidered, and put her ear to the track. Suddenly, Jo thrust up and yelled, “Well what are you waiting for?” Both girls ran for the steep bank and clawed up, clutching grass and branches, just making the top of the bank, when a huge engine, black and loud like a tornado, whooshed underneath. The girls lay still for a while, until they stopped shaking. Then Jo started laughing. Beth started laughing, too, though a little uncomfortably. Then they walked home.

Jo had a wonderful voice. Beth was so proud of her friend, singing a solo in the school concert, which she and her parents attended one evening close to summertime. She had such an unusual, young, melodious yet minor key voice. Jo was invited to join the school’s elite, A Capella Choir. It was a very conservative school, so mostly classical compositions were sung.

A week or so later, Beth wondered why her friend seemed difficult to find during breaks. It was close to summer vacation, and she wanted to plan adventures with her friend and invite her to visit with her to meet her family. Finally, Beth saw Jo, on the other side of the quad, not where they usually sat. Beth went up to her and complimented her on her voice and performance. Jo looked very uncomfortable, and looked away. Beth was completely startled. “I have to go!” Jo snapped. Then she was all brilliant smiles when members of the elite A Capella Choir walked near. Jo started talking to them, and walked a ways with them. Beth watched. They left Jo behind. But Jo persisted in her pursuit of new friends, with Beth watching, over the next few days.

Finally, Jo came over to where Beth was sitting, and flippantly said, “Hi.” Beth said “Hi”. Maybe she had her friend back. Jo had a pomegranate she was peeling and eating. Then they left for class. Beth went to her art class and pulled out her drawing of fruit and a cow skull on a drape, which her teacher had arranged. She began to finish the skull and started to fill in the red lines of her beginning drawing of a pomegranate on the drape. She looked at the still life, to draw from the real pomegranate. She blinked, and then blinked again. She went up to her teacher and asked, “Did you take away the pomegranate for some reason? I thought it was a nice accent.” The teacher looked stern and said, “Someone stole it.” Beth did not say anything. But she felt sick to her stomach. It was clear, now, that her fun friend was a social climber, leaving friends for more “elite” ones. Beth was not like that. She tended to collect friends, not deserting them simply because she had moved on to better places. After all, people superior to her would still associate with her and tolerate her imperfections, and it helped Beth to improve, Beth reflected, thinking of Isabella. So why should she desert friends she had grown beyond? She wished their parents had not stopped their friendship. She wondered what Isabella thought. Still, Jo could have had gotten the pomegranate from her own home.

Beth found Jo on a bench at break and sat down beside her. “Jo, do you mind telling me where you got that pomegranate from? You usually buy your lunch.” Jo gave her a superior look and” smirked, “That stupid art teacher did not even see me take it!” “How did you manage that?” Beth played her along, suddenly realizing Jo thought that Beth would be a co-conspirator. “Just at the end of school yesterday, when everyone had left and he was not in the room. There was water running. He must have been in the back room with the sink, cleaning up. I was quick.” Beth just looked down, hiding her reaction. Then Jo got up, and walked away with Miss A Capella. Jo got up and went into the art room. She told her art teacher. The pomegranate was gone. No one could prove anything. And Jo was an expert at affecting an innocent look. But the teacher thanked Beth warmly.

Beth was glad she had her A-student study friend for a companion. She was sorry she had not associated with her more throughout the year, for she was an honest girl, who talked of one day becoming a Christian missionary. But summer was almost here.

* * *

Beth was sitting by the creek, noticing shadows of pollywog tails wiggling little gold and tan marble bodies hither and dither. It was pleasant sitting on the cool green grass, in the breeze, a healing balm to her wounded feelings.

Then she noticed a graceful figure in the distance, moving towards her, dress flowing in the breeze, her hands delicately gliding soft willow branches aside, then into the clear path. It was Isabella! “Hola, mi amiga. I have not seen you all year.” Beth gasped, astonished. Isabella smiled softly. “May I sit down?” Beth said nothing, simply moving aside for Isabella to sit on the grass she had pressed down. “I have been very busy. I know our parents have been angry with you, however, no one ever meant for it to be forever.” Beth’s eyes filled with tears. Isabella continued. “A lot has happened and I have had to help my family a lot. I am sorry I did not come sooner”. “Oh Isabella! I have been a fool!” blurted out Beth. I was so lonely without you and I thought I had found such a fun friend, and she was, but she turned out to just step on me to find ‘better’ friends and she is not even honest!”

“Well, let us pray for her right now” said Isabella. She drew out a lovely stone rosary of rose quartz, and began to pray softly. Beth listened and started to follow a little…”full of Grace, blessed art thou…” Isabella said a decade. Then she gently placed the rosary in its velvet purse and sat back with both hands on the grass, a little behind her. “What a lovely day! It is so nice to rest a little.”
Beth asked, after a silent communion, “You said you have been very busy.” “Come, I shall show you.” Isabella took Beth’s hand and they walked hand in hand, rather skipping, to Isabella’s home. Beth held back a little. Isabella giggled slightly, saying, “My parents are not home right now, but even if they were, they would welcome you.” Reassured, Beth walked into Isabella’s home and living room. What a surprise! Why, it looked nothing like the spacious, elegant, Mexican styled room of before! The tasteful Catholic figurines and pictures were still in place, but the room was crammed with what at first appeared to be knick-knacks, and the floor looked like a cross between a fabric store and a used book shop!

After Beth’s eyes adjusted to the shadowed light from the brightness of outside, she saw that the room was lined with near life-sized statues of Jesus and Mary, like her vision, and Saints! There must have been eight of them! The shelves had figurines of saints. The “fabric” were beautiful brocades with intricate embroidery in gold, silver, sapphire, ruby and emerald colors, which Isabella called vestments. The books were black leather covered Missals and hymnals, and some very elaborate books one would see on an Altar. There were beautiful paintings of saints, large and small, and a Last Supper tapestry. They were all traditional and all luminously beautiful.

Beth’s face asked the question. “We were thrown out of the Novus Ordo church which once allowed us to have our priest say the Tridentine Mass, which is according to the in perpetuity Council of Trent, which protected the Mass from change, though it allowed the various cultures of a dozen Eastern Catholic Rites, which few people know. (Beth was a little dizzy from this elaborate sentence! But she got the gist of it.) All of us, my parents and my brothers, sisters, cousins and friends, found all these in trash cans, thrift stores and tossed in the basement of the church. Some are a little damaged. A friend is restoring those we can save. They locked the church on us, so we could not get our Mass things. It is a miracle that we have found so many. Some are from other churches which have also excluded our Mass.

“What will you do?” inquired Beth. “We are praying for a priest to be sent to us and we are trying to find a hall to rent for Mass. Then we will carry some of our sacred things and set up for Mass. We are praying we can buy or build a chapel for Mass.” Beth hoped they would find a place and a real priest. She prayed they would! For she did not want that beautiful, sacred, solemn, holy experience to end! “How can you go on, though, if all the leaders are against you?” “Oh”, said Isabella, “we have a leader, an Archbishop Lefebvre, who has passed on, but he is a saint and his presence helps guide us. We have two Bishop’s, now, that are loyal to his memory, and saying the true Mass. We pray for others not so fortunate, and like one of the Bishop’s had said, try not to be prideful, for ‘God gives Grace to everyone in different measure and we never know who will come through to the end.’ So we never condemn them for that is up to God. We pray for them and are very clear about their inferiority to the true Catholic Faith. We are completely honest about it and I am sorry so many are offended by the truth. But some, by their fidelity to what they do have of Grace, will go to heaven, when some of us by our laziness or inattention, might not!” Beth noticed that Isabella never talked down to her, even if she had to strive to understand her more learned words.

“Well, enough of being so serious! Come and see my new puppy! She is a love!”
Moments later, Beth was overwhelmed with a delightful, wiggly warm and so soft puppy, snuggling in her lap as she sat on the grassy lawn in front of the house. It ran round her, and tumbled somersaults over her legs and sniffed her arms and seemed delighted with life. Soon both girls were giggling their troubles away.

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Beth and Isabella were spending a lazy summer day just before school was to open again. They were sitting on the large granite boulders that were part of the dry landscape of low mountains, canyons and rock outcrops. A cool spring was below them, the hot air cooled over it, sending a moist updraft to the girls. They were chatting away, not a care in the world. Then Beth grew thoughtful. Perhaps what had puzzled her at her mother’s conversation when they visited their relatives could be brought to her friend. Beth ventured, “I was wondering, does your family ever speak to each other about religion?” Isabella giggled and said, “We are all Catholics! Of course our Faith is talked about. Most of our family celebrations are feast days of the Saints! Or weddings and baptisms, which are in church, with parties afterwards!”

Beth sighed. “Mine doesn’t. Everyone believes differently from everyone else, except for a few families. In order for everyone to get along with everyone else, we cannot speak about religion or politics at our family gatherings.” “Oh”, responded Isabella. “Well, not everyone in my family is Catholic, or even the same kind of Catholic, so I do know what you mean” “Do they fight, then?” asked Beth, forward as ever. “No, not any more. There is a lot of respect for our older relatives in my family. Grandpa’s word is law, and he stopped the fights.”

“One cousin of my mother’s is a Baptist, and he was just terrible to be around, always trying to tell everyone that his way was right and trying to get me and my brothers and sisters to go with him to his church. He accused my father of being narrow minded, and said if they would only go to his church just once, we would all see how much better it was. Finally, father did take us, and we all begged to leave early, as it was a cold auditorium with loud music that hurt our ears!! We did not even wear our veils to that place because they only believe that Our Lord is a memory, or something strange like that! Then grandpa’ told that cousin to be silent around family, or he would throw him out! He wouldn’t and left, and no one was sorry! Then my father’s cousin joined the modern Catholic Church, which is kind of half Baptist! But he is silent about religion around the family. He is still a part of our natural family, but not our Catholic family, so he and his family are a little separated, and his daughters are not asked to be flower girls at weddings, and such. But they like being with family, and we like them. We are always polite around them so that they will continue to want to be around our influence. Not everyone has a grandpa whose word is law, in their families, to keep order. I am glad that we do! Grandpa’ tells us to pray very hard for them, to come back, so they can go to Heaven, and we do. One of this cousins sons whispered to my sister that when he was eighteen he would come back and marry her and go to our church! So, grandpa’s way must be working!”

Beth and Isabella laughed at this brave cousin’s proclamation. Beth was glad she had Isabella for her best friend. After a little while of silent reflection, Beth said very softly, “When I am eighteen, I am going to come to your church again.”

THE RIDE

It was evening when Beth started from her friend’s home. The magic of evening and sunset had already set in. Approaching a paddock was Red, the wildish mare whom the Espinoza’s might buy—if the price were lowered. They said that she was unsmoothly gaited and that she to get the bit in her teeth and run. Beth began dreaming. She would love to ride Red and have her for her own. She hadn’t permission to ride her and it would be trespassing—but night has a sense of dare in it—and it overcame her. As Beth took straw and rubbed her, she thought, “Why not?” After all, she did need exercise.

Beth tried to get her to stand near the fence, but she wouldn’t. She pressed her neck and made her back up and pushed her hind quarters nearer the fence. She danced away. After two repeat performances she cantered halfway to the end of the paddock. Beth tried to get her to come to the fence, but she would not. Beth was changing her mind about riding her, when she came near enough to be pet. She lowered her neck and stretched forth her head, and Beth got the idea. She leaned her body over her neck and she threw it up, and she slid smoothly onto her back. It was so simple that it surprised Beth.

She tightened her legs around her barrel (no feminine side saddle for this little dare devil tonight!) and fastened her hands deep in her mane. She touched her flanks and they were off at a canter, ‘round the paddock. It was so easy, with no bothersome reins. Her hands were in a perfectly natural position and Red could be guided by moving slightly from side to side. She was still wild, and fairly uncontrollable, but Beth was so thrilled it didn’t matter.

Then she was away into the night and magic, and they were galloping like lightning across the hills the tall green grass brushing her flanks. The wind was balmy and sweet in the chill of night shadows. They were flying straight into the sunset, with a never ending sort of exhilarated ecstasy, and that wild sense of the free. Her hoofs beat torridly, and her whole body, a smoothly flowing, wild and free thing, was warm and alive, with muscles flowing effortlessly, and nothing could ever, ever catch them.

Heart pounding with the excitement and fear of it, Beth leaned back and pulled on Red’s mane to stop her. She slowed to a lope and, reluctant, to a stop, crab-stepped—a sort of side stepping prance. Weak with excitement, Beth’s legs went limp, like when one is over-tired, and feels like laughing. Slowly, she let herself slide around her barrel, and she fell to the soft ground exhausted. Red danced away and paced around the pasture—and Beth was back from the magic with the grass and the sun gone. The air was frozen, though Beth hardly felt it. Beth stumbled over the dirt and down the cliff toward her home. The magic and un-realness of Red back in the canyon stayed with her the whole night.

The next day the consequences began. Mother awakened Beth in the morning with a very serious look, but a twinkle in her eye. She informed Beth that she had been seen and that the Espinoza’s were quite shocked and not happy that Beth had rode the horse. They felt that Beth was too wild to be a friend of Isabella’s and that she should not visit until she understood what a lady is before she came back. Beth was stunned, but did not quite believe it. Surely in a few days or a week, they would forget about this and things between Beth and her best friend would be normal again. Beth’s mother only said, “It was an adventure, wasn’t it?” Beth smiled. Her mother understood wild temptations, and the two could be rebels together. It was to take Beth a long time to figure out that this was not the best attitude, as well as to figure out that her mother was really secretly glad that this Traditional Catholic influence in her daughter’s life seemed to be abruptly distanced.

* * *

As lonely week followed lonely week, and Isabella would not even sit with her at school during recess. Beth became crestfallen. She knew she had done a wrong thing, but she also loved her adventure of riding the horse as well. She had never been punished as much as she should have been in her family, being the only girl and the last child, with no more children following. She really was muddled about what was right, wrong and rationalizing, in some things, so she remained a little confused. Beth sobbed on her pillow when the lesson finally sunk in. She had lost her best friend over one forbidden horse ride! Well, at least most week-ends she was with her own family, as her grandparents were aging, and the family wanted to be together, while they still had them. That was a comfort. Some weeks later, Beth came to be with another, more liberal, friend, much more to her mother’s liking.

* * *

Image #1 the spring #2 surroundings #3 dream sunset #4 Red

Bernadette

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Here is a picture of Fr. Hewko on Pentecost Sunday , giving the 5 exorcisms to a parishioner in the US that are normally given at Baptism. She was originally baptized in the Novus Ordo and and her good mother realized this past week while present at a traditional Catholic Baptism (also by Fr. Hewko) that her daughter never received these in the N.O. She asked Father if it was appropriate for her have them now, at the age of nine. He stated that it was acceptable and agreed to perform the prayers of that portion of Baptism for her on Pentacost Sunday, good priest that he is.

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St. Edmund Campion was a martyr of the English Reformation. He did many good works for Catholicism during his lifetime, including writing an article called “The Brag” to repel what the Protestants were doing at that time, which was killing Catholics and trying to eliminate the Catholic religion.

It is obvious today that the Catholic Church is at its worst point now as it ever was. There are few followers to it, just a handful.

In St Edmund Campion’s time, the Catholic Church was also at a low point. Most Catholics abjured their Faith, and those who stayed loyal were persecuted. St Edmund Campion wrote a circular letter in which he encouraged Catholics to stay true to the true Faith. The enemies dubbed the letter “The Brag” in order to discredit it. The part of “The Brag” which most applies to our lives today is the conclusion, in which St. Edmund states:

“Many innocent hands are lifted up to heaven for you daily by those English students, whose posterity shall never die, which beyond the seas, gathering virtue and sufficient knowledge for the purpose, are determined never to give you over, but either to in you heaven or to die upon your pikes. And touching our Society, be it know that we have made a league-all Jesuits in the world, whose succession and multitude much overreach all the practices of England – cheerfully to carry the cross you shall lay upon us, and never to despair your recovery, while we have a man left to enjoy your Tyburn, or to be racked up with your torments, or consumed with your prisons. The expense is reckoned, the enterprise is begun; it is of God, it cannot be withstood. So the Faith was planted; so it must be restored.

“If these my offers be refused, and my endeavors can take no place, and I, having run a thousand miles to do you good, shall be rewarded with rigor I have no more to say but to recommend your case and mine to the Almighty God, the Searcher of Hearts, Who send us His grace, to the end that we may at last be friends in heaven, when all injuries shall be forgotten.”

This Brag very well shows the dedication and spirit of missionary work, which many priests throughout the SSPX Marian-Corps exhibit today.

As mentioned in The Brag, The expense is reckoned, the enterprise is begun; it is of God, it cannot be withstood. So the Faith was planted; so it must be restored. There are important lessons we can learn from the Brag:

The expenses of our Faith, our religion are reckoned. We understand how taxing it is to carry our crosses every day. And yes, God’s work is not always easy, but does that mean we are excused from doing it? Absolutely not! God never gives us something impossible, and He gives us the strength we need to do His work. So let us take up our crosses, and strive to please God throughout our lives.

Secondly, the enterprise is begun. Yes, the enterprise of spreading the Faith is begun. It was begun very long ago, still continues today, and ever will continue! We are One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic! It welcomes people from all around the world to our Faith!

Thirdly, it is of God. Of course our Faith is of God! He is our Creator and Savior! Everything must be directed to Him.

Fourthly, it cannot be withstood. How could the one and only true Faith be resisted? Why would you resist a fact? Clearly, our Faith IS a fact, so why resist it? This is why it cannot be withstood.

Lastly, so the Faith was planted, so it must be restored. This perfectly describes our situation today! The Faith was planted long ago, and it still is here today, but it has gotten less and less “important” in people’s eyes. So that is why the Faith must be restored.

“The Brag” is a truly wonderful document penned by St. Edmund Campion. Let us always keep its fruits in mind, and let us live by them! And always remember that we hold the one and only true Faith! We must always live our lives in accordance to it, and everything we do must be done towards the greater glory and honor of God.